


Anonymous

by theundeadsiren (rhoen)



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Internet, M/M, Tumblr, Uhm pretty much an anon message sent off anon by accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/theundeadsiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick forgets to click the 'send anonymously' option before sending a message.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have college in two hours and I haven't slept. I am dead.
> 
> Hm, I'm not very good at this coding jibber-jabber...

**You may not take this fic and edit or reupload it - in whole or in part - without my express permission. This includes translations.**

If you are reading this anywhere other than my (theundeadsiren) tumblr, AO3 or livejournal, then please [let me know](http://theundeadsiren.tumblr.com/ask/), including a link to where you found it, so I can take steps to have it removed. For a list of people given permission to use parts of my works, please see [here](http://theundeadsiren.tumblr.com/permission).

Thank you for respecting my wishes.

* * *

 

_Oh shit._

Rick sat and stared in disbelief at his screen, his stomach dropping away sickeningly as the ask box vanished and the little notification telling him that his question had been sent started to disappear.

_That was supposed to be anonymous_.

Just as he’d clicked the ‘ask’ button, he realised his mistake, and now it was too late. Heat flushed his cheeks at the error. It was a stupid slip-up, and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t take it back, no matter how desperately he wanted to. It wasn’t the first message he’d sent – far from it – but all the others had been hidden behind the safety of anonymous. All except this one.

And now the guy would know.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Kieren glanced warily at the inbox notification that appeared as he opened he scrolled his dashboard, the irrational fear that it would be something bad running through his mind. He couldn’t help the lingering anxiety that someone would send him corrosive criticism one day soon, even though as he moved to click the icon he knew it was probably just another spam bot, or perhaps the anon who in the last few months had taken to sending compliments almost every time Kieren posted artwork. He had no idea who they were, but the positive feedback always made his day, and Kieren had started tagging the posts as ‘my anon tag’, each new message leaving him feeling more warmth than he ought to towards a complete stranger. He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up – especially as he hadn’t posted any new art in over a week – but it was nice knowing that someone out there liked his work.

When the inbox finally loaded, Kieren simply stared at the screen, his heart racing. A disorientating mixture of excitement and anxiety conflicted within him, and he tried to remember how to breathe.

The message was definitely from his anon, but instead of the expected grey icon at the side, there was an unfamiliar red one, and a username where ‘anonymous’ usually sat: mufcer. It certainly wasn’t someone who regularly liked or reblogged his posts, but his anon now had a name, so to speak. They were more tangible.

Drawing his eyes away from the details he’d so long been denied, Kieren read the message slowly, his heart still thudding in his chest.

hey i hope your college course is going well. i saw the photos you reblogged of you and your sister and they looked amazing. you both look so gorgeous. did you really make the costumes yourself? the detail is amazing it must have taken so much hard work. stunned as always by your creativity (and i really had no idea you were so beautiful). take care. R x

Kieren had almost forgotten he’d reblogged those photos. A few of them had been taken at the Halloween party he’d gone to with his sister – Kieren as the Mad Hatter and Jem as Alice – and the other was a photoset Jem has hastily uploaded after taking photos of the two of them before and during applying makeup. They weren’t particularly flattering photos, but they were fun, and really showed his sister’s artistic flair for dramatic makeup.

Kieren glanced at the icon next to the message again. The impression he got from it was not one of someone who sent messages like the one he’d just received. Kieren realised he’d expected a drawing of an OC, or perhaps a TV or anime character – certainly not what Kieren now recognised was the Manchester United football club logo. He felt a little silly. He’d assumed his anon was a girl, but the second he made the connection to football, he couldn’t help thinking it might be a guy. But girls liked football too. It wasn’t a gender-exclusive thing. And why couldn’t his anon be a guy? Guys could say nice things and compliment other guys. And whoever this person was, they seemed genuine. They didn’t come across as creepy and obsessive. Maybe they were androgynous? Or trans?

Kieren realised he was overthinking it. Sighing forcefully to try and dispel the nervousness he felt, he moved his mouse over the icon, telling himself that this was no big deal. He was only about to find out more about the person who had won a special place in his heart quite simply because of their kind feedback. No big deal whatsoever.

As the small preview of posts loaded, Kieren’s curiosity stuttered, giving way to what felt like disappointment. They weren’t particularly eye-catching posts, and it didn’t look like the person had done anything to edit the appearance, other than select their own icon, but Kieren knew tumblr only showed random snippets – perhaps it had chosen bad ones on this occasion .

Bypassing the side-panel version of the blog, Kieren opened it up in a new tab, half expecting to see the Optica theme. It wasn’t, but Kieren recognised the theme as one of the more basic tumblr codes accessible from the ‘Edit Theme’ page. It didn’t seem like this person spent much time on their blog. Scrolling through it, Kieren noticed the lack of personal information. There wasn’t even an ‘about’ box or page, never mind any customised links.

Kieren felt more and more confused. There were a few things on the blog that held his interest, but the posts were so sparsely dated it appeared that the only thing the blogger did with any regularity was message Kieren. The most recent post was four days ago.

Kieren wondered if the person was forty-something.

Three pages into the blog, he realised that they weren’t. The lack of what Kieren would all artistic content – art, photography, or aesthetic posts – was starting to make him question why they bothered to message him at all, when he came across a post five pages in that made him freeze. It was a photograph of two attractive young men – perhaps eighteen or nineteen – grinning broadly at the camera, their arms around each other’s shoulders, and a bottle of beer in hand. They looked as young men ought to – bright and optimistic. It was the words underneath that cast a shadow.

‘to my best mate freddie who died last night. there aren’t words to describe how much i miss you. you’ll never be forgotten. x’

Kieren felt goose bumps form as he looked at the faces of the two young men smiling out at him. They looked so happy, and to know that one of them was gone…

There were only eighteen pages in all to the guy’s blog – Kieren was now almost certain his anon was a guy – but when Kieren reached the last post, he somehow felt like he understood him a little better. One possibility was that he was intensely private, but the memorial post, coupled with the messages he’d sent Kieren, left Kieren thinking that he perhaps didn’t know how to openly express himself, or was concerned about what people would say if he did. Coming off anon seemed like a really big deal. There wasn’t much Kieren could gleam from the guy’s blog, but the guy was still exposing himself. Being anonymous was easy. You could be anyone. And now he was someone.

Leaving the blog open, Kieren clicked onto his inbox tab, looking at the message again. A confusing swirl of emotions stirred, not entirely unpleasantly, in his stomach. The guy had called him gorgeous and beautiful, as well as creative. It was incredibly flattering anyway (even if Kieren didn’t believe it), but it meant a lot more now that he knew that the guy who sent it seemed so reserved with his thoughts and emotions.

He’d already taken ages to reply already, but Kieren didn’t rush his response. Several times he paused, deleting questions that were perhaps a little too personal and removing anything that might hint he’d been through the guy’s blog, until he had what he hoped was a decent reply.

It is! Got a lot due before the holidays so chaotic but still fun. How about you? And did you do anything fun for Halloween?  
  
Thank you so much. I made them over the last few months and wondered if I’d ever get finished. It was my sister who did the makeup. I’ll make sure to tell her someone online said how good we looked – she’ll love that.  
  
Take care yourself too, and thank you for the message. You’re always too kind. I hope you don’t mind me responding privately?  
  
Kier. x

For a moment he’d wavered, unsure if he should leave the ‘x’ or not. But for the last few replies his sign-off had been the same, and he didn’t see the point in changing it now. What he did differently, though, was respond privately. If it had been an anonymous message, Kieren wouldn’t have had the choice, but with the guy’s words and his identity – tumblr identity, at least – in his hands, Kieren decided it wasn’t something to share with absolutely anyone who stumbled across his blog.

Returning to his dashboard, Kieren eyed the inbox notification, frowning slightly. It was displaying another message. Dismissing it as a glitch, Kieren was surprised to find another message from the same user waiting in his inbox. As he read the short message, his frown deepened, despondency setting in.

i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to send that off anon. please just forget about it, i’m sorry]

So it had been an accident. Kieren felt disappointed. He wanted the choice to have been deliberate. Now that he knew just a tiny bit about the guy, he wanted to keep that connection. He didn’t want the guy to withdraw or feel embarrassed about what he’d said. Kieren liked what he’d said, and that the guy had found the courage to say such things – even if they were supposed to have all been anonymous.

Biting his lip, Kieren formed another quick response. How long had this one been sitting in his inbox? Probably since a few seconds after the first.

It happens, don’t worry about it! I really don’t mind. My inbox is always open and I’ll always respond privately to you. Have a lovely evening. x’

Sending it, Kieren hoped that was enough to ensure that those two messages weren’t the last he’d ever receive from the guy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never made it to college.

It was a few days before Rick checked tumblr again. Immediately after sending the apology, he’d logged off – something he’d never voluntarily done before – and closed the tab, fully intending to forget about the stupid site for good. He’d instead gone to facebook, trying to distract himself from the embarrassing mistake he’d made and all the horrible things the guy might be saying and thinking about him.

Two days later Rick still felt stupid for the mistake, but he also kind of missed the site. He didn’t reblog things very often, but enjoyed scrolling through his dashboard and liking posts that caught his attention. It felt like an escape from the people he knew in his day-to-day life, and unlike facebook it was uncluttered by people who thought they knew him. The posts were all forcefully optimistic – often they were unexpected and amusing, or at times unnervingly accurate in describing feelings Rick didn’t even realise others experienced. Perhaps best of all, Rick didn’t have to acknowledge photos and updates he had no interest in, and when he ‘liked’ a post it didn’t mean quite the same thing – it was just a small show of approval and not part of the circle-jerk bid for attention facebook felt like.

Logging on, Rick’s blood ran cold, and he tried to ignore the glaring ‘2’ on his inbox icon. He really should have stuck to just liking kieroblivion’s art, but a single click hadn’t seemed like a suitable acknowledgement of the skill and hard work that had clearly gone into the guy’s artwork. He’d thought it worth the effort to give more feedback than a simple click.

Rick had taken days to pluck up the courage to finally send something, and his wording had felt clumsy and awkward. However, his uncertainty as to whether or not he’d done the right thing in sending the message had been quickly dispelled when the guy had answered his message publically, seeming flattered and a little overwhelmed by the praise. He was so humble – almost as if he felt like he didn’t deserve the positive feedback – and it had given Rick the confidence to send a message the next time he’d seen new artwork, and then again, and again.

Whatever was sitting in his inbox, Rick was sure it was bad news. He had never want Kier – whose name was not only in his blog title but also on his about page and in the information box that appeared when hovering over his icon – to know who he was, never mind whoever saw the guy’s blog. Rick wasn’t qualified to comment – after all, what did he know about art? – and had wanted his messages to be about what he said, not the person who said them. He was just some stupid guy who barely knew what he was doing on the site, and now the guy he admired, and has said as much to, knew that.

The notification followed him as he scrolled down the dashboard. Rick stared at it, and then after a few seconds moved his mouse to the top corner of the tab, closing the window.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

The excitement and hopefulness Kieren felt at the appearance of a message notification instantly dissipated when the page loaded. He felt guilty. The message was from a tumblr friend, and he _was_ glad for it… It was just that he’d hoped for something from a different user.

It had been over two weeks now, and there was still no response from the guy who’d accidentally revealed his identity. Looking through his followers told Kieren that ‘mufcer’ had been following him for a few months, and he hadn’t even noticed. Kieren found himself missing him. A few times he’d nearly posted a simple ‘I miss my anon’, but each time had deleted the words, knowing he was being stupid. He’d posted three new artworks, inviting a response, but there was still nothing. If the guy hadn’t clearly been embarrassed about forgetting to check the ‘send anonymously’ option, Kieren might have thought that his anon had become disinterested in him. That wasn’t the case, he had to remind himself as he tried to focus on the unanswered message currently demanding his attention.

All the messages he’d received from the guy – apart from the last two – were still tagged on his blog. A few days ago he’d read through them, wishing there was something he could do or say to bring him back. It wasn’t as if Kieren had known the guy, but he still felt like he’d lost a friend.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Rick really didn’t want to be working on his project. He was underwhelmed by his own solution to the brief, and couldn’t find the energy or enthusiasm to focus on the task for longer than five seconds. He’d had a shit day, and was emotionally exhausted. He desperately wanted to leave everything behind and forget the world around him, even if just for a few hours. It was cold and dark, the cloud-obscured sun having set already, and all day he’d been making errors, knocking things over, and bumping clumsily into people. When he’s stopped at the supermarket on the way home to buy a carton of soup and his change and cards had cascaded out of his wallet and all over the floor, Rick had almost broken down in tears.

It was abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to get any work done. A nagging voice told him that he was giving up too easily, but Rick ignored it as he gathered his things and left the living room. In his bedroom, he dumped his bag unceremoniously next to the desk, and his laptop joined his night clothes on his unmade bed. He needed to do laundry too, but just the thought of the chore made his heart sink even further. He couldn’t face it. He couldn’t face anything.

When Rick finally moved, it was to take his towel from the back of his computer chair and make his way slowly towards the bathroom, every step of the way acutely aware of the cracks showing within him. In the past it had been easy to pretend that the water cascading down his face was from the shower. Now, though, Rick didn’t even have the energy to lie to himself.

Besides, he hadn’t even undressed yet.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

By the time he came out of the shower Rick wasn’t exactly feeling better, but he felt a little more in control. He knew that it was probably just the pressure of coursework and looming exams getting to him, coupled with the ever-present grief of his best friend’s death, but for once didn’t try to smother his emotions or push them away. It had been nearly six months since Freddie died, and Rick was coming to realise that there were good days and bad day. He just had to learn how to cope with the bad ones.

Initially, people had been so damn concerned with what he was thinking and feeling. For weeks they had asked him how he was doing, or had tiptoed around the subject of the crash. By the time the numbness wore off and the constant lie of ‘I’m okay’ couldn’t be further from the truth, everyone seemed to have moved on. University started again. Life picked up from where Rick had left off. People got on with whatever it was they had to do.

Shuffling into the kitchen wrapped in his fluffy night gown, Rick set about heating up the soup he’d bought earlier. He’d already made the decision he would ‘take the night off’. His work would still be there in the morning. He’d feel better by then.

Back in his room, Rick set his scalding soup to one side as he dragged his laptop closer, not really knowing what to do to entertain himself. Facebook was still open, and he gave an unamused snort as he closed the tab, unable to contemplate having to put on a front for everyone. He didn’t enjoy playing along and pretending one bit.

Hesitating for a moment, Rick started typing the address for tumblr into his browser. It had been three weeks since he last checked it, and all he’d done was click on the inbox icon and then quickly close the tab so that the notification would be gone when he next visited the site. He still felt embarrassed for the mistake he’d made in sending the ask off anonymous, but figured that, as there were no new messages, the guy had forgotten about him. It was better that way, Rick told himself as he started scrolling through his dashboard, letting his attention be absorbed by the content that flickered before him.

Four pages in, Rick gave up. He was curious to know how kieroblivion was doing. There had been a few generic reblogs come up on his dashboard so far, but nothing personal. Seeing the username and icon of the guy’s own artwork made Rick miss him. As he clicked on Kier’s username, he promised himself he wasn’t going to interact or message – just observe.

That thought made him stop short. Was he being weird doing this? Was it too creepy? Okay, the guy would never know, but Rick would, and that didn’t make it okay. How would Rick feel if someone trawled through his blog?

How _would_ he feel? Rick realised he’d never thought about it. He never expected anyone to bother. If they did, he wasn’t sure they’d draw much of a conclusion – just that he was incredibly boring, never posted anything personal, liked football, and had a bad taste in humour. Had people who had seen his message to Kier looked on his blog? Had Kier?

Rick frowned, realising he was overthinking things. He just wanted to know if Kier was okay, but back-tracking through a few weeks’ worth of posts seemed a bit much.

A little reluctantly, but knowing he was doing the right thing in respecting the guy’s right to not have some creep go through all his posts, Rick clicked off the panel and returned to scrolling through his dashboard, wishing that he wasn't always an unwelcome outsider to everyone he met and admired.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed my partner's laptop and kinda rushed this... heh.
> 
> Also gotta mention furious_winter, who put me onto God is an Astronaut. Been listening to that on repeat while writing this :D
> 
> Mmm... yeah... not so good at coding, so I've not been able to put the images I want in and get them to look closer to tumblr messages. (Not had the time to tinker, really). I hope it's okay as it is.

Two hours later, Rick sat huddled with his laptop, staring in disbelief at the screen. Hovering over the top right-hand corner told him that the post had been made two days ago. He told himself that he was being stupid, and tried to ignore the knot of anxiousness and cold excitement in his stomach. It was just coincidence. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. There was some other explanation.

Rick had stopped scrolling when he’d seen the post - just the top at first. He’d recognised kieroblivion’s art, and switched to arrow keys, slowly scrolling until the whole image was visible. It was a photo of something Kier had done ‘traditionally’, and Rick thought it looked stunning. It was also very different from the other artwork Kier had done - he focused almost exclusively on people, and on their mood and expression. This, however, was of a sportsman in action, frozen in the moment of jogging up the pitch. And it wasn’t just any sportsman, it was Rick’s favourite - Ryan Giggs - in his Manchester United strip.

The detail was astonishing, and the colours so vivid and alive. Rick stared at the artwork for the longest time, struck dumb by it.

And then he’d scrolled down.

‘I was trying a new technique with gouache for a project. Someone I recently met online inspired me to try a new subject too. I really want to thank them for all the kind words and support they’ve given me over the last few months. It means so much to me. I really hope they like how this turned out.’

The words made his heart skip a beat. He tried to tell himself that he was reading too much into it, and that this was clearly for someone else, but the narcissistic part of him struggled to believe that. For a moment, Rick wondered what it would feel like if it really was for him. How could he ever repay someone for something like that?

But it wasn’t for him. It couldn’t be, so Rick tried to set it to one side.

Now that he’d seen a new piece, Rick couldn’t help checking the ‘my art’ tag on kieroblivion’s page. The first thing he noticed when he went onto the blog was that the theme had been changed. Rather than the autumnal theme, rich with oranges, it now had a dark background with warm red tones as highlights and the photo of Kier and his sister at the Halloween party, which Rick had complimented, in the sidebar. Rick looked at it, wondering for a moment if his comment had influenced Kier’s choice to use it. Probably not, he decided. It was a really good photo of two people in amazing costumes. Anyone looking at it would recognise that.

There were three new pieces - two in Kier’s more usual colours and style, and the third a rough sketch some time between the second piece and the Giggs painting. The sketch was labelled ‘just a doodle’, but looked anything but to Rick. In the foreground, heavily outlined, was a figure, and around them were other figures, but they were so softly drawn they seemed like ghosts. Rick paused at it, feeling very much one of the ghosts.

The overwhelming urge was to send a message. Rick’s mouse shifted towards the ‘ask’ button, stopping just short. He remembered the messages he hadn’t even read, which were still sitting in his inbox. It felt only fair that he should read them first. He was afraid that they’d be angry, and it had been easier to forget about them, but the gouache painting had thrown doubt on Rick’s automatic assumption that they would be mocking or attacking in any way, or tell him to stay the hell away from where he  wasn’t wanted. He just didn’t know.

More anxious than he’d like to admit, Rick navigated back to his dashboard and opened his inbox.

i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to send that off anon. please just forget about it, i’m sorry]

It happens, don’t worry about it! I really don’t mind. My inbox is always open and I’ll always respond privately to you. Have a lovely evening. x’

* * *

hey i hope your college course is going well. i saw the photos you reblogged of you and your sister and they looked amazing. you both look so gorgeous. did you really make the costumes yourself? the detail is amazing it must have taken so much hard work. stunned as always by your creativity (and i really had no idea you were so beautiful). take care. R x

It is! Got a lot due before the holidays so chaotic but still fun. How about you? And did you do anything fun for Halloween?  
Thank you so much. I made them over the last few months and wondered if I’d ever get finished. It was my sister who did the makeup. I’ll make sure to tell her someone online said how good we looked – she’ll love that.  
Take care yourself too, and thank you for the message. You’re always too kind. I hope you don’t mind me responding privately?  
Kier. x

Rick struggled to swallow. Kier had been so nice. It made his heart ache, and he regretted not being brave enough to check his messages weeks ago. He’d pretty much just abandoned tumblr. Had Kier noticed his absence? Probably not, Rick decided, but he hadn’t dismissed Rick. He’d replied as amiably as ever. He hadn’t caught a glimpse of Rick and hated him, despite how different they obviously were.

That meant a lot to Rick.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Rick couldn’t understand how anyone could be so easygoing. It was only when he went to log out that he saw his follower count had increased.

What kieroblivion would get out of following him back, Rick had no idea. Even though it was a simple click it was a nice gesture - a small acknowledgement of Rick’s existence, and the fact that Kieren perhaps appreciated him in some way.

Or that’s what Rick hoped it meant.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Kieren hadn't managed to go online last night, he'd been so engrossed in his work. It was lunch break now, and he'd tagged along with four friends as they drifted towards the cafeteria, chatting about the upcoming exams and holidays. Kieren gave a low murmur, letting his classmate know he’d heard what she was telling the small group of them gathered at the table, but his attention was mostly on his phone. Flicking through it, he checked the deadline for the written report - 12 noon next Friday - and wondered how much time he would need to put into finishing it: hopefully just an evening or two. Habitually, he opened tumblr, not really having been giving much input in the conversation anyway, and glanced at the top few posts on his dashboard. He didn’t have the energy to scroll further, so instead went to his blog, wanting to check his followers and the notes on his posts. It was so much easier on his laptop, but it gave him something to do as the conversation turned to boyfriends and where you should and shouldn't put a flavoured condom.

Kieren didn’t get further than checking his followers. The number had gone up by two, but his inbox count had gone up by three. It was probably just spam, Kieren reminded himself, but he opened it anyway, always a little hopeful.

He didn’t realise he was smiling until his friend stopped talking and focused on him.

“Uh, earth to Kier? What is it?”

Everyone was looking at him, but Kieren couldn’t remove the smile from his face. He gave a small shrug.

“You know the painting I did of that footballer? Well, someone really liked it.”

Leaving it at that, Kieren went back to his phone, not particularly caring that he was being antisocial as he reread the messages from mufcer.

3/3 so much hard work and time. it’s always amazing to see your art. thank you for sharing it. i have some work due soon and exams week after next, then home for the holiday. good luck getting your work done and if you have any exams. R x (also thank you for the follow but you didn’t have to - i don’t post much and it’s very dull)

2/3 i’m sorry if it does. it’s like your other art - nice to look at because it’s thoughtful and expresive. you’re really good. did you like doing the newest art? the one of Giggs? he’s my favourite footballer. i can’t believe you painted him so well (well i can). it stands out. the colour is great but i think the best thing is how you caught the movement and made it look so real. all the detail is incredible. was it for an assesment? because you deserve an A+ for it. it must have taken

1/3 i’m sorry, i wasn’t feeling so great for a while. i didn’t mean to avoid your messages, i hope i didn’t seem rude. i guess there’s no point doing anonymous now. i’m sorry i’m such a boring idiot and not a great artist or anything, but i hope it still counts for something when i say how much i admire your art. the four most recent things are all so good, you get better every time. your sketch looks good and it also feels good too - like the atmosphere and depth. does that sound weird?

Kieren suddenly couldn't wait for the day to be over so he could get home and reply properly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I briefly considered switching the order of the messages round, but I've left it this way because that's how it would appear on tumblr


End file.
